Snapshot
by HowToBeCreative
Summary: After a horrific incident, Michelangelo is left with little to no memory of his own past, including himself. But relearning who you are isn't as easy as it seems - it's utterly unrealistic. That is until an odd discovery reveals Mikey to his former personality. Now he's torn between two options: stick to what his family came to love or create a new Michelangelo of his own accord.
1. Chapter 1

_**Chapter 1**_

As always, he announced his presence as quietly as possible. He lightly knocked on the metal doors as if they could be harmed before hesitantly pushing his way in, practically on his tip toes. Dropping a surprise on his jittery patient was the last thing he needed even if it was unintentional.

And so, gently closing the lab door behind him with a barely audible _squeak_, Don strode across the concrete floor, making sure his footsteps were loud enough to be heard echoing throughout the vast room.

If Mikey took notice of him, he didn't make any effort to acknowledge Donatello's existence. Instead with his shell facing the resident genius turtle, his baby blue eyes were trained on the empty wall in front of him as he sat on the on the edge of the makeshift cot, his limp legs dangling over the edge. The bed had been kindly set up for him a few hours ago by Leo.

…That's the name of the turtle in the blue mask, isn't it? Hopefully it is; it's one of the few things he had come to remember.

"Hey Mike," Donnie softly greeted, though he didn't expect a response. He stopped a few feet short of his brother's cot, making sure not to approach and engage contact unless he was positive Mikey wouldn't become frightened and try to get away. Donnie wanted to avoid another game of Catch, Tackle, and Anaesthetize if he could. Besides, he was almost positive Raph scared Mikey more than he already was.

With his best, calm voice, Don asked, "Ready for round three?"

Although the question was light and playful, Mikey received no comfort from the words. Not bothering to glance at the other occupant of the unfamiliar lab, he bitterly muttered, "I don't have much of a choice, do I?"

Don tried not to take the snarky remark to heart, though it still felt as if a wound was reopened on his tightening chest. Coming around the other side of his brother to be face-to-face with him, Donnie plopped himself into a worn office chair, leaning into the back of the cushiony material as he tried his best to give off a relaxed and passive aura. His demeanor said everything he didn't: he wasn't here for a fight; he was here to help.

_If only he could understand that, _Don thought sullenly.

After a few moments of concluding that Mikey wasn't going to try to run off again, Donnie began the tedious process with a soft voice. "What do you remember?"

"Not much. Everything is still blank, just as always." Mikey locked his eyes on the dusty floor beneath his dangling feet. 'Not much' was practically the understatement of the year, but Don decided to hold his tongue for both their sakes.

Studying the top of Mikey's hanging head, Donnie continued. "What about… my name? Do you remember anything about me or anyone in particular?"

Mikey paused. "No, I think... I can really only remember, uhm… that guy with the blue mask-… He's, erm… I – I can't even remember his name anymore!"

Don took notice of the way Mikey's hands, which moments ago were resting placidly atop the bed sheets, scrunched the peach colored blankets in tight, white-knuckled fists. His facial features had twisted into one of frustration and the tension of his body sent out waves of uncertainty, crashing into Don as if he were standing in the middle of the ocean.

"It's okay, Mikey," Donnie quickly reassured. He inwardly panicked by the thought of having to forcefully put his brother in an unnaturally calm state again with the use of drugs and pointy needles. "We don't expect you to know everything. This is a slow process."

"I know, I know, I just…" Mikey inhaled a deep breath, eyes fluttering shut, and his fists loosened ever so slightly. "Wh… What's next?"

Donnie hesitated. He didn't want to rile Mikey up after only a few minutes of their Questions and Half-Answers routine. This was a frustrating process for the youngest turtle and Don wanted to try his best to understand that. But Mikey suddenly cleared his throat in impatience, urging Don to ask to next question.

"Do you know where we are?"

A pause.

"…no."

Donatello frowned. "You feel no emotional connection or any hint of recognition from this area whatsoever?"

Mikey briefly glanced up, his hesitant irises sweeping over the countless scientific posters scattered across the walls, the multiple glass beakers lining dusty shelves, the balled-up papers strewn across the floor, and… what was that little yellow robot in the corner?

Mikey shook his head, but mostly to himself. He knows he should recognize where he is, why he's here and most importantly, who these turtle mutants (who visit him nearly every minute) are. He knows he's somehow connected to them considering how they all – including him – have green skin, three fingers, a bulky shell and a brightly colored mask. He knows he obviously had a history with them since the telltale signs of broken hearts shine in their eyes whenever he says he can't recall something. Strangers don't act like that, which is partly the reason why he currently isn't attempting to fight his way out of this unfamiliar place. They obviously care for him.

But… he should recognize them. He _knows_ he should, but he doesn't. Can't.

Lowering his gaze once more Mikey quietly said, "No, I don't."

Against his better judgment, Donnie set his elbows on his knees and leaned forward, putting his weary head in his hands. He felt Mikey's terrified blue eyes look up at him in concern but it only made Don feel worse. How can he possibly help someone who hardly remembers their own name, their own _home_? He couldn't help but bitterly think it's a miracle Mikey remembers how to breathe on his own.

"As if life wasn't hard enough," the scientist murmured into his hands as he massaged his temples with achy fingers. Incessantly typing on an old keyboard while trying to find a solution for his lost brother did a number on calloused fingers.

"What'dya say?"

Don glanced up and unintentionally locked gazes with his baby brother. Mikey quickly looked elsewhere. Releasing a heavy sigh, Donnie straightened up in his chair and said, "Nothing of importance at the moment. Let's just focus on getting you back into the swing of things, okay? Now let's-"

"How long is this going to take?" The question was abrupt, uncertain. Don noticed how Mikey's unwilling eyes looked more depressed than frightened, and he didn't know whether or not that was an improvement from the past twelve hours Mikey had been here.

Twelve hours. It had been twelve restless – frantic – _desperate_ hours since they had lost their baby brother mentally. Time and time again, he's asked the same simple questions, hoping for a positive response. And yet they've gotten nowhere besides Mikey recalling his and Leo's name.

Well, not Leo's anymore.

Don felt a twinge of sympathy for the miserably confused turtle sitting in front of him.

"Mike," he said, heart dropping at the sight of his brother's crestfallen face, "this is hard, I know it is. But you and I are doing all that we can, and that's all that matters. We'll get you back to…"

_Yourself?_

_Reality?_

_Usual?_

"… a sense of normality," he decided to finish, "no matter what it takes."

"But this is _ridiculous_!" Mikey suddenly blurted, a newfound anger behind his venomous words. "I mean, I – I should at least remember something, _anything _about my life before-… before whatever happened to me in the first place! Shell, I can't even remember _that!"_ Propping one elbow on his knee, Mikey hid his face in his hand, glaring at the ground as if it would give him the answers he desperately needed. "What's _wrong_ with me?"

Don blinked. It wasn't like Mikey to express such a storm of anger. He was usually so… happy. So full of sunlight and giggles and hugs. But this was a different, shaded side of his brother; this was the confused, scared and helplessly lost version of Michelangelo that Donatello never thought he'd see.

"It's going to be okay," Don murmured soothingly. "We have to stay positive, just like how Mast… W-We just have to stay positive. You'll remember everything soon, don't worry, we just have to… to..."

He drifted off, not knowing what else to say that could possibly soothe Mikey's angered state of mind. Luckily, Mikey spoke for him.

"Are we done? We aren't exactly making progress here," Mikey all but growled. He continued to glare daggers at the ground beneath him and the scientist swore he saw steam rising from the concrete due to the heated look.

Nonetheless, Donnie glanced at a nearby clock and sighed. It was late, almost eleven o'clock and besides, they _weren't _going to get anywhere with Mikey in a grouchy mood.

"Alright, we can talk tomorrow morning. For now, get some rest. And, Mike…" He hesitated, but decided it was for the best if he sent out the reminder one last time. "One of us is going to be right outside the door so please don't, you know…"

"I'm not going to try to leave," Mike growled. "I have no where else to go. Besides, you guys already tackled and knocked me out three times, so I'm fine just where I am, thank you very much."

Donnie barely managed to hide his flinch; this dark side of Michelangelo sure knew where to hit him where it hurt. Releasing a shaky breath, he quietly dared to say, "We're here to help you, Mikey. We would never do anything to hurt you. Trust me on that."

There was no reply. Even as Don gently flickered the light switch off and closed the door behind him as he exited, the slouched figure of Michelangelo sitting on the bed didn't inch from its rigid position.

And before his two brothers sitting on the couch could possibly question if there was any progress, Donnie shook his head 'no' and quietly climbed the steps to his bedroom.

* * *

><p><strong>[Author's Note]: Well dang, an angeredconfused/scared Michelangelo can be feisty. I honestly didn't expect this chapter to begin like this (not to mention to kick off the entire story XD) but apparently, life is unpredictable. But I do hope it's somewhat good; it's my first story, after all. Please leave as much criticism as you would like (it would definitely keep this smile on my face :P), but try to be gentle. I'm a recruit to the FFN world c:**

**Each and every review means a lot to me ^-^**


	2. Chapter 2

_**Chapter 2**_

He felt _guilty._

The unpleasant feeling swirled within the depths of his stomach until it felt like he was going to be sick. He knew he shouldn't have snapped at the other turtle like that; the weird scientist was only trying to help.

But still, what did the purple clad terrapin expect from someone who took two hours to remember his own name? Truth be told, Mikey was terrified being in this strange environment with no remembrance whatsoever of what had happened to him. In fact, the first thing that came to mind when asked about his memories was being carried in strong arms when he awoke for the first time. That didn't give the confused turtle much of a lead.

But that _could_ possibly explain why he's only managed to grasp a few minutes of sleep within the past six hours. Fear is a strange thing; it can somehow weave its way into your subconscious until you're teetering dangerously on the edge of insanity. But for some odd reason, Mikey felt as if there was not only fear of being lost in the unknown, but another vital factor that he couldn't quite understand as he lay in the pitch black of the lab. It twisted his gut and made his eyes dart from side to side, watching for threats he knew weren't going to come. But still, he checked – and he was getting real tired of it.

And so, refusing to stare at the ceiling with paranoia for any longer, Mikey sat up and stretched his tired limbs. His rational side of mind told him to stay put just as the other turtles had told him to do, but as the youngest turtle glanced at a nearby clock – 5:26 A.M. – he decided he needed to get out of this enormous lab which seemed to have shrunken in on him as the minutes ticked by. Besides, that sinking feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach – which he still couldn't quite push away – was getting heavier and heavier as he sat alone in the empty darkness.

_A cold glass of water can help,_ he finally decided. _It always does. Or it's supposed to._

Despite his efforts to be as quiet as possible, the lab door still groaned in protest as Mikey slowly inched it open. Wincing, the turtle squeezed his body through the small crack of the door he'd managed to create and soon emerged into the cool, open air. But instead of admiring his unique surroundings, his warily searching eyes immediately took notice of a large figure on a couch that appeared to be laying belly-down in the middle of the vast, pizza box-strewn room.

As he hesitantly tip-toed his way over to the unknown object, Mikey took notice of a dull red bandana streaking across the turtle's peacefully closed eyes. The puzzle pieces slowly clicked together, and he soon recognized the strange turtle as the one which had been carrying his limp body when they arrived here. Still not quite able to connect a name to a face, all Mikey had to remember the mutant by was the fact that he looked very, _very_ angry when the youngest had regained consciousness for the first time.

It wasn't the best sight to wake up to but it was one that he could remember, and he would take whatever he got.

_Weird, _Mikey thought as he watched the strange mutant sleep peacefully, _he looks so relaxed now. Wonder what got up his shell earlier._

A sudden clattering noise echoed in his ears and made Mikey's heart leap to his throat.

It took a full minute for his mind to process that there was indeed no danger. Something in the distance just dropped, nothing dangerous. Exhaling slightly, Mikey forced his limbs to loosen and his heart began to slow to a reasonable pace. That weird scientist promised no harm would come to him, right? He shouldn't be so jumpy; he knew he was in safe place, even if he didn't know exactly _where._

The sound of metal hitting the solid floor resounded once again, though Mikey was prepared this time and hardly even flinched. But this time around the noise was soon followed by a rather loud groan of annoyance. Suddenly curious, Michelangelo blindly followed the disrupting noise to its source, moving as swiftly yet as quietly as the wind as he trusted his ears to guide his feet. Before long, the youngest turtle spotted a thin line of light escaping through a crack in a paper-like material which, from what he could tell, resembled doors of some sort.

Another abruptly muttered curse, closer and louder than it was before, almost made the ever-curious Michelangelo jump back and squeak in surprise, but he managed to hold his tongue as he dared to peek through the crack in the unfamiliar doors.

A small, muscular turtle wielding two glinting swords was inside, and after he picked up one of the lengthy weapons he had mistakenly dropped, began gliding through movements Mikey had never seen before. Speaking of the unfamiliar, he had only seen this particular mutant once; when the blue banded terrapin was setting up his cot in the lab. And even then, the peculiar turtle hadn't said much. He merely told the scientist to be careful before he left.

With that memory in mind, large baby blue eyes watched as the blue clad turtle ran through intricate movements almost as if he was swimming through a lake. The swords whisked through the heavily candle scented air, never faltering in their actions as their owner took one steady movement at a time. Time seemed to be lost in Mikey's mind as he simply observed the strange mutant jab and spin, twist and turn.

It was so graceful; so determined; so sure of itself that Mikey couldn't help but wonder how often the unfamiliar turtle practiced these movements. He was obviously no beginner. And because of his expertise, it was almost as if Mikey was suddenly whisked into an alternate universe, and he wondered if the other turtle felt the same.

Then suddenly it was cut short as the turtle stopped dead in his actions.

Mikey didn't dare to breathe. He didn't know if he was caught or not, but although his heart raced, his feet refused to. The admirable swords were slowly lowered to the ground as the turtle, who was staring emptily at the wall in front of him with his shell to Mikey, stood as if he were a sudden statue.

Then to Mikey's great and utter horror, the stranger spoke. "You're supposed to be resting in the lab, Michelangelo."

_Dang it, _Mikey inwardly chastised himself as he released a nervous breath. Realizing there would be no point in denying that he was spying on the other turtle, Mikey slipped his fingers in the door's crack and pushed it open. Immediately he was overwhelmed with the suffocating scent of the candles scattered around the carpeted floors and the naturally dusty smell of a majestic, overgrown houseplant he had not been able to spot through the limited vision of his peeking hole.

And my oh my, it was _magnificent._

His innocent blue eyes were filled with marvel and awe as Mikey stared up at the grand tree, his mouth slightly agape. His feet moved him into the room and in front of the stranger, though his focus was not on the blue clad turtle curiously watching him. His gaze instead darted all over the plant, admiring its fluttering leaves and worn bark.

For a brief second, he wondered where in the world the tree was growing from; there was no dirt to be seen, no water to be heard, and only a speck of the rising sun trickled its way down a small grate in the ceiling. But before he could ponder the thought too long, Mikey was carelessly snapped back to attention.

"Why aren't you in the lab?" the other turtle questioned, a firm authority ringing in his voice. At the strict tone, Mikey realized he certainly wouldn't get away with snapping at this turtle like he had with the scientist, considering this blue-masked one was already mad at him for merely getting out of bed.

_Someone woke up on the wrong side of his shell… _Mikey thought as he shuffled uncomfortably.

"I-… I couldn't sleep," he said, reluctantly tearing his gaze away from the tree to look at his wriggling toes; a sign of respect for the other mutant. "It felt weird in there, and I wanted to get some water."

"Well, this isn't exactly the kitchen," the turtle commented. "Would you like me to get you a glass while you head back to your bed?"

The question sounded more like a command than a friendly offer, and although Mikey knew that's how the turtle wanted him to perceive it as, he decided to play by his own rules. "No, I'm not very thirsty anymore," he said, glancing up to meet the other turtle's dark eyes. "And… uhm, wh… what's your name again?"

There it was again. The flash of hurt that momentarily slipped into the dark blue eyes of the turtle in front of him.

Mikey bit the inside of his cheek and broke eye contact, settling to stare at the ground as he wondered what he did wrong. He definitely shouldn't be pushing someone who had a nice, deadly pair of sharp weapons in their hands. For a few numbing seconds no answer greeted Mikey, and he felt the awful sensation of guilt eating his stomach away; but finally, the other turtle sheathed his swords behind his back and released a deep, audible breath along with Mikey's sigh of relief.

"Leonardo, Leo for short," he said. "Then there's Raphael – but we call him Raph; and Donatello, also known as Donnie."

"Some weird names, huh?" Mikey quietly said without thought. Then his curious mind soon took control of his mouth as he directed his gaze back to his original source of interest. "So, what's up with the tree? How'd you grow it down here? It's pretty cool."

A deafening silence.

Mikey looked at "Leo", tilting his head in curiosity as to why the other mutant was suddenly so quiet – not that he was loud to start out with, but this quietness had a different feel to it. He was about to ask what he'd done wrong – again! – but quickly shut his mouth as he saw a deeper, more savage pain shadow the stormy blue irises.

Leo's hardened gaze traveled over the glittering green leaves, down the chipping trunk, and ending at the base of the tree where, after a few moments of studying, Mikey could make out a worn spot in the carpet, almost as if someone had sat there repeatedly. But who would want to sit under an old tree all day? It boggled Mikey's mind but he kept his mouth shut for his own sake, patiently awaiting Leo's answer.

Said turtle abruptly cleared his throat, blinking his eyes once or twice to mask the untamed emotions Mikey swore he had seen there just moments before. "I don't know," Leo answered truthfully. "It's something I wasn't able to ask."

"Ask who?" Mikey questioned.

The response this time was much quicker; probably too quick. "Someone you haven't met yet. Anyways, you shouldn't be up right now. Don will blow a fuse if he finds out you were wandering the lair at night."

_Lair? What kind of place am I in?_

"Technically it's morning," Mikey half-heartedly jested, choosing to ignore his concern about where he's currently located. "Probably around 5:30 now."

Mikey's simple statement had an immediate reaction. Leo hastily walked over to a small digital clock in the corner, studying the time as if he didn't believe his own ears.

"Shoot," he mumbled under his breath. "I let them sleep in too long."

"Sleep in?" Mikey incredulously exclaimed. "Dude, it's _five_ in the _morning_!"

Leo gave him a sideways glance. "Yes, but we normally are awake and ready for patrol around this time."

"Well if 'patrol' is such a normal thing for you," Mikey said with blatant doubt, "why'd you lose track of time?"

He hesitated. "I… I don't know. Things have been a bit hectic lately and…"

Leo rubbed tiredly at his eyes and let out a breathy sigh, his words drifting off into nothing. But Mikey was smart enough to know the other turtle was in obvious inner turmoil. It's funny how the same person who was running through such determined and assured movements just moments ago suddenly looked helplessly frail and appeared almost as confused as he did.

Concerned from the sudden change of behavior, Mikey briefly studied the other turtle for a fleeting second before asking, "How long have you been up? You look exhausted."

A small shrug was all the answer he received and Mikey frowned in unease; but before the silence could stretch out again, Leo began talking.

"Look, I know this is a bit strange for you," he began, glancing towards Mikey, "but trust me when I say we aren't here to hurt you. You don't remember much but Don said there might be a chance of regaining your memory somehow, so you just have to push through the next few days, okay? I promise nothing bad will come of you. We'll help you in any way we can – you just have to ask and we'll do everything in our power to make you feel more comfortable."

Mikey smirked. "If you're implying that I'm gonna leave…"

"Okay yes, maybe I _am_ saying that," Leo abruptly interrupted, his gaze hard and demanding yet still tender with care. "You have to stay down here, Mikey. If you take any risks on going topside, then you'll endanger us all. And I know you don't necessarily have much experience with us so far, but keeping you down here is the only thing we're asking of you."

"Down here? Topside?" Mikey parroted. "Where are we? Underground or something?"

Leo paused. "Y-Yes, we are. In the sewers, at least. Which brings up another good point; since you have little memory, I'm guessing you won't remember your way around the tunnels. In other words, you'll get lost and we won't have a way to find you." Leo closed his eyes and kneaded the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger as if the mere idea of Mikey running away was wearing him out. "So please, don't do anything stupid while we're gone."

"If you're so worried about me leaving, why not just stay down here or take me with you?" Mikey asked with an arched brow.

"We… We have important business to take care of. You don't need to get involved. Besides, we trust you more than you think."

Mikey playfully rolled his eyes. "Dude, you make it sound like you're going to murder someone."

A breathy scoff escaped Leo's lips and he diverted his eyes. "How ironic."

_That_ certainly got Mikey's attention. His eyes went wide with curiosity, but before he could possibly question what the other turtle meant by that, Leo quickly continued.

"However, I do have an idea. Stay here; I'll be right back." And with that, Leonardo left. Mikey watched as his muscular form went through the paper doors and disappeared into the darkness of the 'lair'.

Shaking off his worries about the vague statement Leo had just uttered, Mikey was left gazing at the tree, studying its features and pondering its origin. But he wondered mostly about the eldest turtle's strange reaction to his questions, specifically the one about the tree. He was only curious; he didn't mean to make him upset.

_But was he upset or…sad? _the youngest asked himself with a frown. He saw the way the dark blue eyes had lost some of its shine; how they drooped at the edges; how his body had stiffened in distress. The thoughts tossed and tumbled around in his head, his mind popping up possibilities of where he had gone wrong by simply asking where the plant had originated from.

A few seconds later, Leo emerged from the dimness outside of the Tree Room (Mikey decided this was a suitable name for the small area). He walked up to Mikey with a natural confidence the youngest admired and held out his hand.

Resting in his palm lay a small device the younger terrapin was instantaneously intrigued by. Reaching out with nimble fingers, Mikey took the odd machine into his own hand, turning it over and over while admiring its appearance with wide eyes.

"It's a T-Phone," Leo answered the unspoken question. "Donnie invented it, you named it, and we all use it. Here, look. If you push this button, it turns it on and off…"

And so, the eldest proceeded to enlighten the youngest with information Mikey should've already known – but didn't. Nonetheless, Leo watched as Mikey's eyes lit up with a certain happiness that had sparkled since they were tenderly young, but had fewer appearances as the years went by. But no; _now_ it was back in full force, and Leo couldn't stop his smile from slipping out as Mikey eagerly began to experiment with the T-Phone as if it were the greatest thing he'd ever come in contact with.

_Well,_ Leo speculated,_ it__** has**__ been one of the greatest things he has seen ever since…_

The leader shook his head at the dark thought, his smile promptly wiped clean off his face and replaced with a stoic mask. He mustn't dwell on the past. He needs to focus on what needs to be done right here, right now. After all, being distracted is what got all of them into this mess in the first place.

"Just be careful… and smart," Leo interrupted Mikey's delighted chattering about the 'cool buttons'. He took a few backwards steps towards the entrance and met Mikey's eyes as the youngest looked up. "I'll go wake Don and Raph up, and we'll be back within a few hours. Call me if anything happens."

"Geez, bossy much?" Mikey teased. He waved off Leo's questioning glance with his free hand. "I'll be fine, trust me dude. Go have fun shoving your sword-thingy's down a guy's throat."

"Katanas," Leo absentmindedly corrected and Mikey rolled his eyes though he mentally took note of the weapons' name. With one final glance at his dearly lost baby brother, Leo exited the room and left the curious Michelangelo alone with the 'insanely awesome' T-Phone, although the sensible part of his mind was screaming at him to stick to Mikey's side like super glue.

But he had no choice. He, Don and Raph had to do this. Right?

He couldn't be sure anymore.

* * *

><p><strong>[Author's Note]: ... And so, Mikey has partially bonded with Don and officially met Leo. I suppose that only leaves Raph. Oh, how I adore those two; they go together so perfectly! Prepare for fluff in the upcoming two chapters or so.<strong>

**Reviews would certainly keep me happy and motivated to keep writing, no matter what they say! (Except flames. They're not welcomed here, sorry.)**


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